


movement

by demios



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 'will you ever stop naming ur fics after hozier songs' unfortunately...no, Body Worship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Nonbinary Character, Other, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demios/pseuds/demios
Summary: Anjali and Kimura enjoy a night together in Kugane.
Relationships: Au Ra Characters/Midlander Hyur Characters (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	movement

**Author's Note:**

> anjali is nb and uses he/they, i’ll be sticking with he/him pronouns for this scene
> 
> this one goes out to lis, who has patiently waited for me to finish this monstrosity! kimura is also her character!

Anjali flops onto the clean sheets of the bed without an onze of restraint, burrowing his face into a fluffy pillow to stake his claim. The feeling is near-decadent - a long soak in the inn’s hot springs had him fresh and drowsy, muscles relaxed and limbs limp. The dim candlelight does little to alleviate his state of indolence, its lazy glow casting shadows along the walls. Moments like these are rare, he thinks. Fleeting, when idleness has always been strange to him.

It’s tempting to sink into the abyss of sleep right then and there. He allows himself a moment to close his eyes. His breaths are slow in his ears, a soothing tempo over the chirp of crickets and distant festivities outside.

Truthfully, he hadn't meant to spend Moonfire Faire in Kugane. It was entirely by chance that Yayashi was peddling her wares to a client in the East, and Anjali offered to make the trip in her stead to save time. His initial stay was longer than intended due to the inevitable chain of fetching that followed - _because what was the realm’s savior doing in foreign lands if not in the midst of taking on someone’s petty task?_ \- but he supposes the distraction wasn't entirely unwelcome. That, and it let him meet Kimura, who had been picking up supplies in the city for the reconstruction efforts.

Kimura, whose unflappable composure was only betrayed by the lively flick of his tail when he first spotted Anjali on the docks. Kimura, whose hands were large and warm when they tugged him through the city as they ran from one errand to the next. Kimura, whose eyes were bright with childish wonder as the faire claimed the dark sky with fireworks. Kimura, who tasted like a combination of salty squid and herbal teas after showing Anjali his favorite Hingan dishes.

A dip on the other side of the bed makes him stir. Kimura is impossibly gentle as the back of his hand brushes Anjali’s cheek in greeting. A chuckle passes the au ra’s lips when his lover unconsciously leans into his touch. Crystalline blue soon finds him in the lantern light, taking solace in his presence and marveling in the way his scales shimmer with each movement.

“The yukata suits you.” The au ra murmurs warmly.

“Does it?” Anjali tilts his head slightly, but sleepily accepts the compliment. “I'm still not used to wearing robes all the time.” It was the first time he had spent a stay in Kugane among its people rather than as an adventurer.

“Of course it does; you look lovely.” Kimura leans over and presses a small kiss to his temple - _carefully,_ always carefully, because the horns like ivory framing his face are just as sharp. He once remarked that au ra were fond of showing affection by nuzzling horns together, but hyur were small and soft and fragile, bereft of horns and scales. Though it had taken some practice, Kimura’s dedication had borne fruit - where the sudden desire for affection first led to the clumsy bump of horns on Anjali’s crown, the light press of lips on his clean skin draws a fluttering joy from the depths of his breast.

Anjali stills himself as best he can, savoring the brief contact. Sake hums pleasantly through his veins and the dark locks brushing his collar smell faintly sea salt despite the bath, lingering from the day’s escapades.

Anjali had never seen the sea in his youth, and the ocean only reminded him of Leviathan’s unrelenting fury. Fray stirs in the nadir, a bright flicker of steel in the dark when he remembers the makeshift ship in a raging storm. Was this the price of being loved, he wondered. ( _It was the price of being used,_ Fray hisses in return.) But there was no boat this time, no maelstrom to swallow him whole, to be the only one to embrace his screams. 

Just toes buried in silken sand, cool water lapping at his feet, the sky streaked red by a brilliant sunset. Anjali gazed out into the horizon mesmerized, intent on committing the scene to memory. Another entry for his journal, another fragment to keep close to heart when the world seemed bleak.

And then there was Kimura by his side, half-there and half-not. When Anjali spared a glance at his companion, he looked like a familiar stranger made of only waning sun and clinging twilight, as if it was the man’s soul bared to him in that moment, flickering in the space between night and day. Kimura had seemed lost in thought, solemn gaze fixed on the sea as if he would drown in it from sight alone.

Though, perhaps he was drowning in something else. Anjali watches him now with clear, inquisitive eyes, trying to pick out his features where shadows veil them when he draws back. “What were you thinking about? When we were at the beach.”

“The ocean reminds me of home.” Kimura replies, voice as gentle and faraway as the waves.

 _Sui no Sato,_ the other remembers being told. Most assumed Kimura was another Raen who lived among the citizens of Yanxia of Hingashi, and he never felt inclined to say otherwise when it would endanger his people. “Tell me about your home?” Anjali asks. His silvery hair spills down his neck and shoulders when he shifts closer, still undone and damp. Kimura’s larger form casts a comforting shadow over him, face imperceptible in the low light save for the wavering of bright limbal rings.

“You've been there before, haven't you?” Kimura takes one lock of Anjali’s hair in his hand, bringing it to his lips before letting it fall back into place. Anjali’s heart twinges when a bittersweet smile graces the au ra’s expression.

“I have, but…” For him, it was another flurry of activity among their quest to free Doma. Faces he didn't remember, battles fought out of necessity, nothing close to the concept of rest, and anything but a home when the villagers regarded him with a practiced distance. “I want to know what it was like for you.”

“Well…” Kimura starts, then hesitates. Pauses, sighs, eyes not quite meeting his. Anjali recognizes the motions when the other cannot adequately express his worry and relief when the realm’s savior returns bruised and bleeding. A feeling too painful to put into words, maybe, when Kimura was always the one who preferred to fill the silence.

Anjali debates retracting his request, but Kimura finally speaks. “It was… a peaceful place. We were raised on white sands with the ocean cradling our village. We thought ourselves protected by the kami, hidden away from the unkind world threatening to rend us in twine. Each day we passed in tranquility, undisturbed and far from the chaos on land.”

A slow, shuddering pause. Kimura momentarily closes his eyes, finned tail curling around himself without thinking. He looks smaller than before, baring the days of his youth to Anjali when he rarely spoke of them. _Impractical,_ Kimura once called it, to entertain such distant musings when he could no longer return. There were bodies to heal and bury - dwelling on the past would serve to do naught but distract him from the duties that burdened him.

“During the day, the waters were clear, fish of all kinds passing by our wards as we swam out to gather herbs and plants. It was as though we were flying, weightless, free like the shiki guarding our home.” His eyes take on a strained sort of wonder, reaching for the emotions welling up from a facet he suppressed out of necessity. “And during the night - during full moons, you could see those who glowed in the dark hang above us like stars, drifting with the pull of the tide. It made a young boy like myself want to know what lay beyond our secluded realm. For if the world was this beautiful from a small window, would it not make sense for the land to be equally captivating in all its glory?”

Anjali hears Kimura’s confession in the space that follows, clear as day even though it had been moons ago in a barely-lit infirmary, under the scent of dried blood in the near-dark. That Kimura had succumbed to his wanderlust and used the Doman Liberation as an excuse to see the world - that no matter how hard he tried, he could not wholly devote himself to the cause like Yugiri had, that he could not understand why soldiers would readily give up their lives for a lost cause, that the guilt of feeling as though he was lying to his countrymen each time he saved them from the jaws of death gnawed at his conscience without reprieve.

A long sigh coaxes Anjali from the recollection, Kimura shaking his head. “They say that ignorance is bliss, yet I could not help but sate my curiosity once I beheld the wonders beyond Sui no Sato. The stubborn streak in my youth served me well when I left with naught but a sack of herbs and a staff to my name.” His voice softens, barely above a whisper. “Even though I know what lies on the surface, I sometimes still dream of that view.”

The Echo doesn't overtake Anjali’s senses, but Kimura’s longing is evident in the way his aether sways like the sea, as if being pulled to and fro by conflicting desires. In that moment, Anjali feels his chest twinge with the urge to do something to alleviate the sadness that's taken hold in Kimura’s gentle gaze. He could take Kimura back to Sui no Sato on the back of a Kojin’s stingray, he could ask the people there, as the Ruby Princess’ savior, to grant him blessed asylum beneath the waves once more, he could… 

“Do you ever want to go back?” Anything Kimura could want, Anjali would give him. There was always a forlorn sense of duty when Kimura used the medicinal techniques from his homeland, one that pervaded his magicks when conjury was cast from his fingertips. Anjali always felt there was something deeper to the fleeting sorrow than the man’s usually serious nature.

“I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering.” Kimura’s smile turns fonder, tail uncurling when he leans over to pet Anjali’s hair. “I forsook it by choice. And while it would be a lie to say that I don't miss it, I’ve a new home now. One by your side. Forgive me for chattering on like that.”

“I don't mind. It was nice.” When Kimura gets close enough, Anjali reaches up and pulls the au ra down onto the bed with an arm hooked around his neck. He wouldn't consider himself a _home,_ when his circumstances were ever capricious, but he can always savor moments of solace like this.

Kimura throws an arm around Anjali’s shoulders, tangling their legs together as he fits imperfectly beside him. They’re so close now - Anjali can feel the familiar swirl of Kimura’s aether in the short distance, the idle patterns permeating his daydreams when they were apart. Pale scales brush against his scarred skin, rough and iridescent like crystal, with a tail playfully curling around his ankle. 

Anjali buries his head in the crook of his lover’s neck, pressing his cheek against the other’s pulse and the cool patch of scales there.

 _Is it right for him to accept this,_ he wonders. From someone as kind and patient as Kimura, someone who doesn't ask him to risk his life or slay gods at every turn _._ Someone who would surely deserve more than having his love tucked away between bruised ribs, smothered by a deafening heartbeat, always lost and bled out onto the ground when the end of a blade found its mark. Mending hands are wasted on him, yet Kimura sews him back together as if the inevitable would change one day. 

“Sometimes, I can't believe this.” Kimura says, as if voicing his own thoughts.

“Believe what?” Anjali asks, pulling his head back, wondering if he's missed something the au ra said.

“That you come home to me each time. A consequence of my profession, I suppose.” Kimura gives a dry laugh, but Anjali feels the flicker of pained relief under Kimura’s skin, raw and undiluted beneath a composed demeanor. Kimura had seen men die over and over in his arms, and it was difficult to put his faith in anything but the kami’s guidance when their souls drifted back to the lifestream. But for someone as bright and burning like Anjali - he allowed himself a small, childish hope that he wouldn't be one of the ones returned to the earth. Kimura's touch is delicately practiced, reluctant to take more. “Allow me the indulgence of wanting you this much.” Kimura holds him tightly, bringing Anjali flush against him. “I missed you terribly.”

There is a tender ache in the way Kimura’s chest rises and falls against his own. Anjali indulges in the way they are simply _two_. No movement, no voices, no deafening choir of roaring aether and blood on steel. He is safe with Kimura, where the steady beat of his heart is a tempo he would know anywhere, a song to guide him home through the storm.

For the moment, anyways. An unprecedented fit of restlessness makes Anjali slip out of his arms to get more comfortable. He sits up in the bed, sliding the thin material of the robe off his shoulders, and tugs at the socket of his prosthetic.

“Are you alright?” Kimura asks, reluctantly releasing his grip to better let Anjali maneuver himself. He follows suit, propping himself on his elbows and tentatively watching his lover fuss with his arm. The conjurer knew the other was prone to phantom pains, and aether unconsciously gathers in his palms, ready to soothe him if needed.

“Itches.” Anjali says simply, before shucking off his prosthetic and casting it aside on the nightstand.

Kimura relaxes slightly, relieved the other wasn't in any pain. Still, he sits on his knees and catches the end of Anjali’s residual arm in his hand before he pulls away again, kissing the scarred end with a gentle grasp.

Kimura treats his old injury like fragile glass, lightly running fingers over the marred skin. Anjali holds his breath, pulse flitting a little louder in his ears. It's not something that brings shame, but the touch is always something he'll never get used to. It's drastically different from clinical examinations in the infirmary. Here, he feels _trapped,_ with golden eyes boring through him to the rotten soul he's taken care to guard.

A myriad of hesitant feelings coalesces until Anjali remembers to breathe - he cups one of Kimura’s scaled cheeks with his free hand, just below his horn, drawing his attention away from his arm. Bright gold flicks up towards him from beneath long lashes, patiently awaiting what Anjali would deign to give him. Anjali wrests his residual arm out of Kimura’s saccharine vise, feeling the au ra lean into the rough palm cradling his cheek.

He holds his lover’s eager gaze with a dusting of faint wonder, in muted awe that Kimura would trust him this much. Fair features framed by ivory regard him as if _he_ is the beautiful one, instead of someone who's been scarred and weathered down to a shadow. _I'm yours,_ the calm rhythm of Kimura’s aether says. _Though not without a bit of mischief,_ the focused glint in his eye adds. 

Anjali falls easily into the other’s shift in priorities. Kimura was stiff and serious in his work, but Anjali was one of the few privy to the playful side that rarely had the opportunity to rear its head. Among the fatigued refugees and desperate soldiers, he was never afforded a moment of rest, nor anyone to confide in. It initially came as a surprise to find Anjali’s inquisitive nature met by light-hearted teasing when they were alone together, but Anjali supposes this is part of the starry-eyed youth that he left behind in Sui no Sato.

He takes Kimura’s chin next, fingertips languidly brushing the scales framing his jaw and his thumb curiously pressing against the other’s plump lower lip. His grip is firm, keeping his head in place. Not that he needs to, mind - Kimura gladly lets Anjali have his way, even if he has to bow his neck to meet him. The au ra betrays no sign of discomfort at the position, always elegant and poised even while planning something dastardly.

The hyur curls his unclawed thumb downward, slightly prising the other’s mouth open. Anjali catches a glance at the other’s pearly fangs from this angle, ever intrigued by the differences in their anatomy. Kimura watches him like prey, and Anjali is keenly aware of how simple it would be for Kimura to bite him if he so chose. Like gazing into the maw of a dragon, as it were.

He pauses, entertaining the notion. Not his hand, maybe. But other places with soft, vulnerable flesh have certainly been victim to an au ra’s claim. _The fleeting graze of fangs, the promise of almost breaking skin, reddening marks that caught his eye each time he passed a mirror_ \- Anjali shivers lightly at the thought. As if sensing his lover’s musings, Kimura suddenly becomes still.

Anjali nearly gasps when Kimura’s tinged tongue darts out to swipe at him like a child, yanking his hand away with eyes wide in disbelief.

The initial shock dissolves into laughter, warm and foreign to his ears. “You're gross,” Anjali says between chuckles, grinning now and wiping his hand on the covers.

“It was _supposed_ to be seductive.” Kimura returns with a snort as he straightens his posture and rolls his neck. The flick of his tail makes a dull _thump_ on the mattress. “Besides, I thought you liked my tongue.” 

The organ was tinted blue and curiously shaped, how could he _not_ be fascinated by it? “Of course I like it.” Anjali says earnestly, before climbing into Kimura’s lap. “I like all of you.” He steadies himself on strong thighs before hooking his arm around his neck and lunging forth to finally meet his lips.

Kimura stiffens at first, unmoving because he is aware of all the ways he could hurt Anjali just by returning the motion without restraint. His heartbeat fills his pointed horns, the scales at his jaws and cheek seeming unwieldy and out of place for a passing moment. He keeps his mouth closed, not wanting to risk a hasty cut from his fangs, simply engrossed in the way Jali’s lips are soft against his.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Anjali lacks experience, and pauses to gauge Kimura’s reaction, pale blue eyes opening slightly to stare down his nose. The au ra takes the opportunity to deepen the contact, tilting his head in a way that prevents his horns from scraping Anjali’s face. Kimura’s scaled palms delicately hold his lover’s face, one claw thumbing the scar at the corner of his mouth. His affections are sweet and slow, basking in Anjali’s shivering breaths, overzealous explorations, and the way he sinks into Kimura’s touch. Kimura’s heart brims with innocent joy - Jali forfeits his vigilance when around him, a rare sight for the hero of the realm when he was perpetually hounded by clamoring voices and portents of all kinds.

“You still taste like squid.” Anjali murmurs without thinking, his lips brushing Kimura’s own. A remnant from their forays around Kogane Dori’s food stalls, and Kimura’s favorite. Kimura’s hands fall from his face, but Anjali leans in to lap at the other’s lips again, a playful dash of tongue that doesn't ask for entrance.

“Hmm? Is that a good or bad thing?” Kimura asks, amused at how the other could be so strangely endearing. Not enough to break the mood, but enough to chase away the embers at his core and replace it with fluttering giddiness high in his stomach.

“Don’t know yet.” Anjali tugs him in by one horn, licking his way into his mouth with a purpose.

Anjali slides off the silky material of Kimura’s robe, skimming the exposed skin with calloused fingers. His attentions edge towards heated rather than the chasteness from earlier. Jali idly traces down the patches of pale scales at his neck and collar while Kimura holds him in place with hands at his hipbones, making soothing circles into the exposed skin and scars. Kimura feels a tongue run over his fangs, a harsh shudder coursing through him despite himself.

“Anja...” A gasp escapes the au ra in warning, a shallow breath finding a home in Anjali’s mouth. 

“I don't have anything planned for tomorrow.” The hyur blurts suddenly, separating himself. “Yayashi already took care of everything else, so...” 

And told him to _‘enjoy himself’_ at the faire, whatever that may have entailed in her mind. Either way, he wasn't expected back at her small shop for more errands. He had a feeling Naevia might give him an earful if he went back to Eorzea without spending more time with his lover, too. 

The au ra merely blinks, slowly letting the implication sink in as Jali gives him a pleading look to understand without further elaboration. 

Kimura, of course, has to make a point to tease him about it regardless. “Oh? Is this your way of seducing me, Anja?” He asks, a brow quirking upwards as his lips twitch into a smile.

Anjali fidgets, his face growing warm at the pet name. “I mean… yes?”

“You're ridiculous.” Kimura laughs softly, cheeks flushed, limbal rings glowing in the half-lit room. “I thought you would want to _rest,_ after everything.” Despite his words, Kimura’s hands edge towards the dip of Anjali’s hips, deft fingers pausing their patterns in an unspoken question.

“Is this not rest?” Anjali cocks his head, his otherwise placid expression betraying a hint of disappointment.

Not that Kimura could ever deny him. “Most would consider it otherwise.” Kimura leans down to brush Anjali’s hair back and deliver a peck to his forehead, just above his tattooed brow. “But if it's what you want…” 

Anjali is too short to return the favor when he pulls away; instead, he settles for a palm splayed at the patch of scales at Kimura’s sternum, where he lets himself stay for several heartbeats. “Only if it's what you want, too.”

Kimura feels a nascent stripe of heat course through him as Jali adjusts himself, their hips pressed against each other. It feels more intimate now that Jali has put his want into words. More _real,_ because Kimura doesn't have to skirt about the other’s wandering glances and guess what his intent might be. Jali never asked for much - never asked for anything at all, really, while sacrificing himself for the realm and its people. Kimura could never find beauty in endangering yourself for others, but the way Anjali always carried the day inspired some of the naivety he held aeons ago.

Anjali is crystal light, radiant and benign, and Anjali is shadow, long on the walls and silently watching. Anjali’s existence is just as fleeting as both and Kimura would not give him memories of pain to carry in his breast. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he added to the scars etched into Anjali’s body. 

So he resolves to give Anjali only pleasure tonight, his hands lightly squeezing his hips. He starts where it is familiar, like any cursory examination in the infirmary. Hands flitting over sun-blessed flesh, gracing every ilm bared to him, except he edges into personal indulgence where he would normally maintain an air of professionalism. This is a purely selfish endeavor, when he needn't scour the other’s weary body for fresh wounds.

Kimura kisses a soft trail down Anjali’s temple, his cheek, his jaw - then descends to his neck and collar, basking in his scent and the gradual crescendo of his pulse. Small affirmations that Anjali is breathing in this moment, and not another cold corpse under his fingertips. _Are you here?,_ he asks with each kiss that tickles Anjali’s skin. Every gasp and sigh in response echoes in the confines of his horns, weaving through the tempo of his own heartbeat.

Anjali’s hand cards through Kimura’s silken locks and cradles his head, as if sensing the mingling hesitation and relief in his affection. Kimura leans into his touch, pausing momentarily to close his eyes with a hum. The home he’s made at the crook of Anjali’s neck feels closer to natural than any of the long, arduous years he spent in Doma. How ironic that he should always seek solace in Anjali when he was the one who vowed to be his shelter from the constant fire and blood. Anjali idly pets the other’s hair in soothing motions, drawing a low purr from Kimura when his fingers brush the pair of smaller horns on his head. The au ra returns the subtle encouragement in stride, playfully nipping Anjali’s collar in retaliation - and Anjali tenses in his hold, a stripe of heat coursing through him as his legs involuntarily clench around Kimura’s hips.

As he licks the skin in apology, Kimura’s hands dance over his toned thighs, gripping them with scaled claws to further keep their duo entwined. He brushes the scars over them with his thumbs, as if they could be easily smudged away like pliant clay from the earth. Kimura mentally counts each one with a foreign reverence - rusted faith he now reserves solely for his lover instead of the uncaring kami.

Jali squirms slightly, holding onto Kimura’s shoulders to steady himself. His grasp slips from the back of Kimura’s head to his neck, idly stroking the scales at his nape as they glimmer intermittently in the faint glow of the room. The delicate skin and hidden scales were always covered by his hair, rarely exposed even in moments of intimacy. While he is far from inexperienced, he feels strangely vulnerable to have Anjali meet him there, of all places. It's not a controlling hold, but each kiss he presses to Anjali's body is accompanied by a subtle reminder of where his heart lies when Anjali shyly nudges him closer for more. The hyur’s fingers dance at the base of his neck and Kimura finds himself enraptured with the simple pleasure of touch ghosting over his skin and spine, one he thought forever lost to him.

Kimura’s hands travel upwards, claws gently scraping Anjali’s sides and making him shudder with gooseflesh. He follows the raised tissue of one large scar - a brilliant tree of lightning coursing along Anjali’s torso - minutely fascinated by the way Hydaelyn had plucked him from the forge and welded him together. A combination of burnt flesh giving way to searing light; Anjali never talked about it, and Kimura never asked. Yet while it was scarcely the first time he had seen the costs of battle, to see it engraved upon his lover’s body makes him feel like a child again, hands trembling at the sight of his first patient. _Powerless,_ even though there was nothing he could have done. But Jali is _here_ \- Jali is as bright and alive as the lightning that nearly claimed him, and Kimura’s chest swells in relief once more. No less radiant, pressed flush against him.

Deciding he's dwelled on more than plenty of morose thoughts for the evening, Kimura’s grasp shifts so he cups Anjali’s breasts in his palms, absently thumbing at one dusky nipple. His mouth descends lower to meet where his hands begin to massage the soft flesh. The au ra presses a lingering kiss at the dip of Anjali’s cleavage, atop a lone scar that extends across his sternum. With the way they are currently tangled, would it be enough, he wonders, to impart his yearning and devotion directly unto Anjali’s heart?

Anjali only regards Kimura with a raised brow and slight bemusement, holding his silence. He’s always unused to being treated this way, like some holy artifact in the hands of a devout worshiper. Even in potent flickers of intimacy with Fray, part of him wanted to shrink away from the touch, the feeling more strange than any steel or spell. Still, his body betrays the enjoyment of being spoiled, try as he may to calm his heart. The buds teased by Kimura’s claws harden quickly from the bit of attention, a rushed sigh escaping his nose.

Kimura does not miss the way Anjali has begun to unwind, slowly but surely easing into his caresses and wordlessly seeking more. Kimura gladly gifts it to him - he lowers himself from Anjali’s collar to catch one nipple between his teeth, lightly grazing it with his fangs before sucking on it. The ministrations elicit a muted whine from Anjali, a sweet noise that makes Kimura’s lips quirk upwards. He considers it a small victory, given the Warrior of Light’s normally stoic facade. 

Though it’s not like he’s any better - Kimura’s own breathing has grown slightly labored, the sound of his own exhales turning into the occasional barely-growl. Anjali’s heat and scent fill his senses, dizzying desire rushing through him. Though he is focused on the task at hand, he is vaguely aware of the way Anjali has started leaning against him, his hips pressing against his growing need. Were he possessed of less restraint, Kimura feels as though he might suddenly devour Anjali with the fervor of all the moons between them. Yet when he glances up at his lover, he is taken aback by how beautiful he is, the feverish haze momentarily quelled.

Anjali’s eyes are bright with interest, spine arching into Kimura’s scaled hands. “Do you really like them that much?” A lopsided smile spreads across his lips, even if the words are breathy. 

The au ra hums thoughtfully, the vibration resounding through the both of them when Kimura’s mouth is pressed against his chest. “They’re nice.” He offers, squeezing them again.

“Don’t you have some, too?” He asks, reaching his hand to petulantly grab one of Kimura’s pectorals and flick the hardening nipple. The motion catches Kimura by surprise, his hold loosening as he quietly moans.

Keen as ever, Anjali uses the opening to shift his weight and pin Kimura down onto the bed. A brief thought flickers through Kimura’s mind as gravity pulls him backwards - that he hadn't ever had the chance to spar with Anjali before - and he is privately shocked by the efficiency of motion with which he uses to straddle his larger form. 

“Eager, aren't we?” Kimura laughs warmly. He surrenders without complaint and lets Anjali take over, not one to stifle his curiosity.

“I missed you.” Anjali says plainly, shameless enough that it makes Kimura swiftly quiet in embarrassment. Jali was, in some ways, more open about the way he felt.

Anjali takes his time to explore Kimura’s body, re-familiarizing himself with where a touch might bloom into pleasure instead of pain. An odd sight, when Kimura’s own claws and rough scales were more likely to mar than the gentle fingers dancing over his heated skin. Kimura tilts his head back in offering, baring the glimmering scales at his neck in silent invitation.

Anjali lightly traces a finger down the column of opalescent ivory, following the motion with a small kiss to the spot at his clavicle where scale meets skin. Saccharine yet tentative - Anjali pauses afterwards, and Kimura can feel inquisitive eyes burning into him. The au ra hums appreciatively and whips his tail against the mattress in encouragement, reassuring Anjali that he is enjoying the attention. Anjali is like the tide, rushing in to brave this unfamiliar intimacy and pulling away when he becomes unsure - another charm of his, when he is so determined yet inexperienced. Kimura is patient when he coaxes Jali back to him, waiting with half-lidded eyes and rosy cheeks, and internally counts the number of times his chest rises and falls in anticipation until the hyur continues. 

Kimura is, truthfully, unused to gentleness in intimate forays - during his time in the resistance, sex was just another way to relieve stress and forget about the despair that constantly gnawed at him. His trysts were never tender, never anything more than heated, rushed, rough affairs to chase after a sliver of relief.

But where he once found empty pleasure in selfishly taking what he wanted, he is strangely fulfilled watching Anjali fumble and hesitate with each touch. Every cautious caress from the hyur causes his skin to burn, making him more sensitive than any bruising grip or sharp teeth ever could. The weight of Anjali leaning over him is both arousing and comforting at once, his soft breasts pressed against Kimura’s chest and his dull teeth nipping at bared skin. He relinquishes the last of his tension in favor of holding Jali by the hips, large palms settling on the small of his back to steady him. 

Anjali trails lower, leaving kisses at the patch of scales at his sternum. The hyur squeezes one pectoral indulgently and lightly pinches the hardened nipple between his calloused fingers, drawing forth shivers and breathy sighs from Kimura. He then runs a tongue over his lips in anticipation before bowing his neck; Anjali teases the other nipple with his mouth, sucking and licking at it before ghosting over it with hot breath. Kimura melts under his ministrations, his tail flicking beneath him with each pinprick of pleasure that travels up his spine. The attention is unbelievably pleasant - not something startlingly intense enough to bring him to climax, but one he enjoys regardless. He closes his eyes and basks in the sensation of Anjali massaging and teasing his chest, the growing heat at his core pooling in a low simmer that warms his entire body.

Kimura lets himself relax into the sheets and that soon proves to be his folly; Anjali remains nigh unpredictable, and takes the opportunity to trap one erect bud between his teeth. He bites down lightly and swiftly tugs at it before releasing it from his grasp, slowly licking the sensitive area around it. The au ra’s eyes flutter open and Kimura’s tail thrashes at that, a sharp jolt of pleasure coursing through him as he tightens his grip on Jali’s hips. The hyur only glances up at his lover, mischievously grinning.

Emboldened, Anjali keeps his mouth fixed around one nipple while his hand dips south from Kimura’s chest to his ribs, his touch flitting over his flank. The sudden attention to the au ra’s gills causes Kimura to gasp and arch his back, the fringed membranes at his sides expanding and contracting in surprise.

Anjali stills, but doesn’t pull his hand away. He waits until Kimura sinks back into the bed and swallows thickly. “Was that bad?” 

“No, _just_ \- just a sensitive place.” One not often touched by others, simply because it was never necessary. Kimura can feel his pulse faintly echoing in his horns as he recomposes himself. A hand trails up to stroke Anjali’s hair in reassurance. “You’re doing well. Keep going.”

Anjali nods and exhales in relief. He mentally takes note of the reaction, now focused with fascination as he repeats the motion. The hyur gently runs his fingers over the sliver of skin between the fleshy slits lining Kimura's ribs, barely dipping at the edge of each gill in curiosity. Kimura tenses, his breath hitching before it dissolves into a moan. It's the most debauched sound Anjali has ever heard and his sex throbs dangerously between his legs in immediate response, his veins alight with the shock of sudden heat.

Kimura is impossibly beautiful as he writhes and trembles beneath his lover, his scales glimmering with each twist of his body as if _he_ is the one filled with a blessing of crystal light. Anjali kisses his way down Kimura’s abdomen, memorizing all the little scars along the way - he doesn’t have anything large and unsightly marring him like Anjali, but he pays silent reverence to the ones he finds all the same. His nails lightly rake down Kimura’s sides, clicking along the scales at his hip.

Anjali’s hand at last drifts down to caress the arousal pressing against the front of Kimura’s smallclothes, his fingers wrapping around its growing shape. He’s not _experienced_ by any means, but his pursuit to grant his lover pleasure outweighs the hesitation in his movements. In the handful of times they laid together, it was mainly Kimura fussing over him, and Anjali intends to return the favor in what ways he can. The hyur tugs the waistband of his undergarments down, just enough to free Kimura’s cock, and drags his thumb up his hardening erection. His fingers catch on the ridges along the length, the motion ending with Anjali teasing the sensitive head with a feather-light touch at the sticky slit. Kimura squirms from where he is trapped by Anjali’s hips, perhaps from eagerness, or faint shame because he hadn't expected to be leaking already. 

Anjali quickly takes Kimura into his callused grip in earnest, pumping the thick shaft. His hand works his lover’s cock slowly yet firmly, sliding from the delicate scales at the base to partway up the ridged underside. Kimura twitches noticeably in his hold as his girth swells, and the au ra sinks his teeth into his lip as he weathers shivers that extend all the way down to the tip of his tail. A lack of time to care for himself coupled with Anjali’s flushed, hungry gaze seems to heighten his receptiveness to touch. His hips have started rocking into Anjali’s hold of their own accord, though he doesn't have much leverage lest he buck his lover off. 

As though sensing his predicament, Anjali slows his strokes to a torturous pace, and _then_ \- removes his hand from the other with a final devious flick of his wrist. Kimura cannot contain the whine that tears from his throat, a slightly petulant noise when he had just begun to lose himself in the rhythm of hand and hip. A feral grin splits Anjali’s face as he readjusts himself, instead using his hand to steady himself with Kimura’s shoulder. Then, with little prelude, he rocks his hips forward. The sudden contact draws shuddering sighs from both of them. Kimura’s cock throbs as Anjali rubs his own neglected arousal against it, the first taste of friction already addicting in its sharp, overwhelming pleasure. Anjali relentlessly grinds against his lover’s hard length and the soft stones beneath it, the space between his thighs near-burning from the contact. His smallclothes are damp with sweat and slick from both parties, the thin layer of cotton between them maddening. 

Kimura’s loose grasp on Anjali’s hips turn into hands cupping his arse, squeezing his cheeks and bringing him forth to close any remaining distance between them. The sound of their heaving breaths fill the room, only silenced when Anjali leans over to meet Kimura’s mouth in a needy kiss. They crest and swell together, drinking in the presence of each other desperately through the heat. They could find release like this, rutting against each other like mindless beasts. They've been apart long enough for such a simple thing to satisfy them for the night. 

But perhaps they are getting ahead of themselves, Kimura thinks as he mindlessly slips a hand into the front of Anjali’s undergarments. He had promised himself to give Anjali a memory he could cherish while away, and to finish with a relatively tasteless act would be a pity. The inside of Anjali’s smallclothes is already wet and slightly viscous with his excitement, a sign that he is terribly close just from a bit of grinding.

 _Adorable,_ even if Anjali would not take kindly to the descriptor. Kimura breathes a broken chuckle as he dips lower, grazing Anjali’s tender flesh with a scaled knuckle. The texture is curious enough to make Jali curl into himself in surprise, interrupting his rhythm. Kimura repeats the motion several times, ghosting over Jali’s swollen clit as the hyur struggles to keep his balance. “A moment, love?” Kimura asks, pecking the corner of Anjali’s mouth as he withdraws his hand.

The soft request grants Anjali a moment of clarity that manages to break through the all-consuming hunger for release. His vise on Kimura’s shoulder falters, and the hyur lowers himself onto Kimura’s firm stomach, the latter’s erection trapped between their bodies. Anjali’s hips squirm slowly even as he tries to keep still, languidly chasing the movement to abate the way his body burns at the core. His pupils are blown amid flushed cheeks as he rests his elbows and chin on Kimura’s chest, waiting for the au ra to speak.

Kimura merely leans forth and kisses his lover on the tip of his nose, petting the silvery locks that spill onto his collar. “Surely you’re not satisfied with just this?” Although if he _was_ content with picking up where they left off, Kimura would not fault him for it.

A stripe of liquid fire courses up the back of Anjali’s neck in a combination of arousal and embarrassment. He had been so caught in the moment, he hadn’t realized his zeal could have prematurely ended their fleeting night together. “I would-” Anjali pauses, distracted by a kiss to his temple. “I would like to do more, if you would as well.” He admits, his voice shrinking at the end.

“Then how would you have me?” Kimura asks, his warm exhale ghosting over Jali’s lips. 

Anjali _wants,_ even if he doesn't know just _what_ he wants. Anything. _Everything-_ if Kimura would have him, of course. “Inside me?” 

The two words are enough to stir up a flare of latent heat in Kimura’s gut and he bites back a moan. “A fine suggestion,” He turns his head to kiss Anjali’s scarred cheek. “Just where inside you?”

“Here?” Jali props himself up to a sitting position, then leans back on Kimura’s thighs, spreading his legs in display. He strokes over his entrance through his smallclothes with two fingers, feeling how the thin cloth is soaked with arousal. He throbs harshly as he teases the flesh around his slick opening, the sensation intensified by Kimura’s keen gaze on him.

Kimura licks his lips. “Anything you want.”

Kimura shifts beneath him and Anjali rolls off of the other’s thighs, resituating himself on the bed. The au ra quickly sheds his smallclothes, leaving Anjali outright staring at what precious little skin and scale it once covered. Kimura only smiles as he presses a hand on Anjali’s chest to carefully guide him onto the sheets, looming over the hyur as he tugs at his lover’s undergarments. The message is plain and Anjali wiggles his hips to facilitate the effort, silently relieved to be free from the growing mess between his legs when Kimura tosses the offending garment onto the pile of clothes on the ground. With both of them bare, hyur wonders if he would be taken right then and there - but Kimura simply leans down to nuzzle one curved horn against his cheek. “Open yourself up for me first. Do you need oil?”

“I should be fine.” Anjali replies, tugging Kimura down by the horn to give him a proper peck on the lips.

“Mm. Tell me if you do.” Kimura pulls back slightly to give Anjali enough room to prepare himself, but continues to spoil him with affection as he works.

Anjali wastes no time in snaking his hand between his legs, slipping fingers inside of his tender folds. He’s slick enough that breaching his entrance takes no effort, and there is little discomfort as he begins to stretch his inner walls. In truth, he cannot tell if he is adequately preparing himself - between his impatient lust and the absolute mess of slick he is fumbling to navigate through, Kimura’s form is the most distracting thing, kneeling between his trembling thighs while whispering praise into his skin and hair to goad him on. There are kisses at his jaw and collar, followed by caresses from a scaled palm. The sharp claws of an au ra and the sensitive skin of a hyur did not make for the best of combinations, and Anjali knows this is Kimura’s own way of easing him open when he could not actually touch him. 

It would be dangerously easy to come while writhing on his fingers, a gasp hitching in his throat when he crooks them upwards. But instead of losing himself before even taking his lover, Anjali’s gaze fixes where Kimura’s arousal juts out, the tip leaking pre down its length as it fruitlessly throbs against the air. The hyur withdraws one knee and stealthily slides it between the au ra’s legs, slowly grinding against his shaft. The previously careful claws dig into Anjali’s collar, dragging down his skin and scars as Kimura attempts to steady himself though the shiver that wracks his body.

“I take it you’ve had enough?” Kimura asks, clearly not immune to the same impatience clouding Anjali’s own judgement.

Anjali vigorously nods, hurriedly pulling himself out with an obscene noise and flinching from the sudden lack of fingers. Before he can wipe them off on the sheets, Kimura grasps his wrist and takes them into his mouth. His blue tongue darts from between his lips as he tastes the hyur’s fresh slick. Anjali can only watch, his throat instantly going dry - the way his essence stains Kimura’s lips is unbearably erotic in its vulgar devotion, a sight so sacred and profane he thinks he could not possibly want for anything more to keep him company on lonely nights.

His daze is broken when Kimura lowers his hand, kissing the back of it in a faux-noble manner. “Where do you want me, Anja?” 

The Warrior of Light briefly wonders if the benefits of the Echo would extend to not having to describe his fantasies out loud. But Kimura is patient as he gathers the words, simply holding his hand and thumbing over the dozen scars there until he is ready. 

“I... want you to take me from behind. While I’m on my hands and knees.” Because if Kimura were to gaze at him like _that_ the entire time, he would likely combust from embarrassment.

Kimura kisses his hand one last time before untangling himself from Anjali. Kimura slides off the bed and rummages through the nightstand drawer, taking out the aforementioned vial of oil and uncorking it. While Anjali shifts himself onto all fours, he notices Kimura thoroughly stroking his cock with the viscous liquid out of the corner of his eye. 

Anjali arches his back in what he hopes is an alluring sight, waiting for the bed to dip with another’s weight. It comes soon enough - Kimura’s larger form settles behind him, eclipsing the sliver of light that reaches the scarred plane of his back.

Kimura trails the back of his hand down Anjali’s back, coaxing forth gooseflesh as he shivers. “ _Kami_ , you are divine.” The au ra murmurs into Anjali’s hair as he leans forth with the intent to mount him.

There is a hand on his hip to keep him loosely in place as Kimura lines himself up with his entrance. Anjali can only tremble as Kimura’s cock drags along the curve of his arse, then lower to where his entrance lies. It presses against him shallowly in warning, simply allowing Anjali time to mentally steel himself for what is to come. Then - _slowly_ \- Kimura finally guides his length inside of his lover, gasping as he resists the urge to sheathe himself in one motion. He is immediately taken by how warm the inside of Anjali’s body is, with his walls surrounding him and creating a wonderful grasp on his length. His lover tenses beneath him, similarly overwhelmed, and Kimura pauses to rub soothing circles at the small of Anjali’s back until the knot in his shoulders visibly relaxes.

Anjali is impossibly hot and slick around him, causing the au ra to moan as he slides in further. When he is partway inside, he forgoes the hands holding his cock and Anjali’s hip in favor of pressing his abdomen against the hyur’s heaving back, instead planting hands beside Anjali’s arms in the sheets. He uses his hips to sheathe the rest of himself, finishing the arduous task with a pleasured sigh in Anjali’s ear. Kimura takes the next few moments to calm himself and ignores the desire to mindlessly thrust forth like an animal in rut. One hand finds Anjali’s and laces their fingers together, while the other cups his left breast and absently fondles it as they both steady their breathing in an attempt to acclimate.

They stay like that for a long moment, connected but otherwise unmoving. Anjali is frantic from itchy lust, smothering the initial discomfort of Kimura’s thick cock breaching him. He can’t move much with the au ra above him, gasping and shuddering and sweating as he is kept in place by strong hands and light kisses at his nape. Kimura is- _large_ , as auri men tend to be, hot and firm and stretching him while buried deep inside. Not unlike the way he’s settled inside of Anjali’s heart, the hyur thinks with a sideways sort of mirth. The ridges on Kimura’s cock make every shift against each other noticeable as Anjali tries to stay the hammering of his pulse. It turns out to be an impossible feat with a myriad of conflicting wants driving him mad - the sensation of being filled, the elation of being this close together, the desire for more, his own arousal pitifully neglected-

“Are you well?” Kimura asks, damnably gentle against his neck.

Part of him wants to give the au ra a frustrated bite on the nose, but he does not turn his head lest he impale himself on his horns. Instead, he bows his back, grinding back against him as best he can as in indication of his enthusiasm. “You can- _nn,_ move now,” He grits out, his voice close to a growl. 

“As you wish,” Anjali can feel Kimura smiling against his skin despite the waver in his voice. 

Kimura is unsure of how much his lover can endure when his body always seems so small beneath him, and rife with scars besides. But Anjali squirms, sending another fizzling jolt straight to the base of his skull from where their loins are connected. The promise of experiencing it again and again whittles away at his judgement, but this pleasure is his as much as it is Anjali’s, and there is little reason to keep him waiting. What sort of lover would he be if he denied him that?

It takes a moment for him to adjust his hips with their current angle, not wanting to lose his balance. He begins by pulling half of his length out of Anjali slowly, then thrusting back inside, supporting the other with his grip as he moves. The effect is near-immediate - noises of pleasure rumble deep in his chest, resounding through Anjali’s ribcage and right to his core. Kimura cannot see the place they are joined, but the sensation is blissfully decadent, and he forfeits his lingering anxiety to let instinct guide his movements. Anjali is soft and delectably wet each time he delves into slick folds. It builds to a moderate rhythm, every sweet thrust turning his mind into a syrupy mess when he partakes of the heat of Anajli’s body. The warmth radiating off of Anjali’s skin is cloying, and the thought of the two of them melding together so that even their shadows are the same makes his heart feel fit to burst.

Anjali offers soft, breathy groans in return as Kimura nestles against his insides - he cannot form anything substantial with his tongue, cannot tell Kimura which angle is best because he is so full that all he can feel is burning, restless pleasure in his gut. His head hangs forth, a curtain of silver hair obscuring his view. The muffled sounds of flesh on flesh and flesh through slick are the only things he can focus on as he is repeatedly taken. Anjali is at the mercy of Kimura’s hold, and he feels strange and vulnerable and oh so _grateful_ to entrust himself to the other completely. 

Kimura’s grip shifts to both of Anjali’s breasts, the angle allowing him to better pepper affection down his back and shoulders. Kimura’s claws massages his breasts, his rough claws fondling pert nipples by rolling them between his dexterous fingers and stroking over the hardened buds. His thrusts are accompanied by hot, gasping kisses into Anjali’s skin, followed by the occasional nip of teasing fangs dragging over flesh. Anjali tenses and shakes with the onslaught of stimulation, further tightening around Kimura in a motion that draws barely-stifled moans from both of them.

Anjali wants _more,_ and Kimura seems to sense that in the way his body begins to squirm out of his grasp. Kimura lowers him slightly into the sheets, so that his hips are raised, allowing him marginally more freedom to use his arm. The position makes Anjali bury his face into the shoulder of his residual arm while the other shakily reaches between his legs, ghosting down his abdomen until he finds the wet, dripping flesh between his thighs. He fumbles further between thrusts, lightly grazing his swollen clit in time with Kimura’s hips, fingers bumping where they are connected. His voice cannot find purchase when the pleasure turns sharp enough to cut, exiled to thin, soundless whines and shuddering inhales.

It soons becomes evident that it truly had been far too long, because Kimura’s voice dips into a low growl, the muscled form casting over Anjali as if to shield him from the rest of the world now heaving with exertion.

 _“Anja,”_ Kimura groans, stopping his movements and pressing his sweat-damp forehead against Anjali’s nape while he catches his breath. Anjali can feel the patch of scales on the bridge of his nose dig into his skin, and the hyur fixes on him from over his shoulder, wondering if he's done something wrong.

“I thought I would be able to be gentle,” Kimura confesses, strained and thin, chest and shoulders rising and falling from the effort of being still. “But something about you makes it hard to maintain my composure.”

“It’s okay,” Anjali says between uneven breaths. “You don't have to, ah, hold yourself back.” 

“I don't want to _hurt_ you.” Kimura’s voice is a hoarse whisper when he kisses the shell of Anjali’s ear. The hyur can feel how he shivers with restraint with each involuntary thrust, deep and full and burning with the promise of something more. 

_Again with this,_ Anjali thinks, but not without fondness. _I won’t shatter,_ he wants to bluntly inform the other.

But he is too preoccupied stewing in petulant indecision to notice when Kimura slowly works himself out in order not to startle the other. He shudders from the sudden emptiness, and props himself up on his arm to glance back at his lover. Kimura still hovers over his smaller frame, the head of his cock slick when it brushes the inside of Anjali’s thigh. “Shall we take a break? You could ride me instead, or…” 

The offer is attractive enough for Anjali to momentarily consider it. To pin Kimura down between his thighs, to mark his collar and neck for his own, to swallow his whines and feel him tremble in vain, to have him come completely and utterly _undone_ beneath his touch - certainly something he would not be opposed to taking pleasure from. But it is painfully obvious Kimura had been carefully maintaining his dignified facade since they first found each other; Anjali thinks teasing him any further would be outright cruel.

Anjali nudges Kimura’s length with his leg, making the au ra gasp from the unexpected friction. Kimura opens his mouth to protest, but the other merely runs searching fingers along the ridge of one horn, then tugs him forth for a kiss. Anjali’s expression is light and playful and trusting, making Kimura’s chest tighten and bloom. “Okay, then - I _want_ you to be rough. I want you to… ah, show me how much you missed me. Please?” He adds sweetly as an afterthought. The au ra is silent for a long beat, his face pensive as he closes his eyes. 

Without warning, Kimura pulls his lover close in a hug, burying his head in Jali’s shoulder. His dark locks tickle the hyur’s neck as he exhales a great sigh. “What am I supposed to do with you?” He murmurs in absolute defeat. 

Anjali wiggles his hips with a short laugh, knowing he’s won. “Anything you like, of course.”

Kimura rolls his eyes in faux exasperation and briefly kisses his jaw. “Just… tell me if it becomes too much. Alright?”

Anjali’s heart skips a beat at the undercurrent of hungry desperation tinging Kimura’s voice, a flash of heat coursing through his previously cooling body. A scaled palm presses on the space between his shoulder blades, firmly guiding him forward until he is fully on the bed. Anjali’s knees buckle so that he lies flat, able to do little more than grasp at the sheets. He flexes his hand in the fabric as Kimura settles over the back of his thighs, his tail swishing in excitement and swiping Anjali’s exposed calf.

Kimura absently kneads the ample flesh of Anjali's rear, as if reconsidering, then spreads Anjali’s cheeks and guides himself inside once more, drawing a shaky gasp from the hyur. The au ra wastes no time in picking up where they left off, succumbing to the warm embrace of Jali’s body and thrusting in a steadily growing rhythm. The hot, burning fullness at Anjali’s core returns in full force, except this time he is entirely trapped in place by Kimura’s hips and the iron vise of his grip. Even Anjali’s attempts at raising his hips to meet him are fruitless; he can only wait and receive his lover as the other sees fit, clenching his fist into the sheets with each slide of the other’s ridged cock.

Gradually, the snap of Kimura’s hips becomes harsher, breaching him relentlessly. Each arc of motion pushes Anjali further into the mattress, his sensitive nipples and scar tissue brushing the sheets as the breath is stolen from him. Between the sticky wetness of his tightening folds, Kimura’s hardened length twitches and throbs as it drives into him, making pleasure spark across his sweat-laden skin. The lack of autonomy feels _filthier,_ in a way - it is a perverted sort of thought that Kimura is using him for his own pleasure, fucking into him like this. He can only make muffled whimpers and moans between deep thrusts, leaking shamelessly all the while. He kills his strangled noises in the crumpled sheets, finding it increasingly difficult to contain them all.

The fact that Jali was near-silent in most every other aspect of his life makes his voice all the sweeter to his lover's horns, and it incites fresh pangs of arousal from Kimura’s lust-addled mind. He hardly registers that he is digging ivory claws into Anjali's shoulders as he anchors himself, dangerously close to breaking flesh yet still leaving reddened scratches in his wake. The slap of skin when they meet is audible now, second only to Kimura’s own voice. The effort of fucking his lover leaves him grunting and growling under his breath, animalistic noises he did not think himself capable of making. His delicately curated restraint falls to pieces as he thrusts deep into Anjali again and again, and in this tangle of limbs and heat he vaguely wonders where he ends and his lover begins.

Kimura drapes himself across Anjali’s back once more, the weight of his own body keeping Anjali pinned to the bed. One of Kimura’s hands wanders along Anjali's tensed arm, finally grasping the back of his hand so their fingers entwine. The act is deceptively tender when Kimura’s other hand cradles Anjali’s throat, lifting his head from where he was smothering evidence of his pleasure in the sheets. Anjali’s teeth sink into his swollen lower lip in response; Kimura seems intent to uncover every wanton ilm of his body. “I want to hear you,” Kimura groans brokenly.

A request that might have given Anjali pause, were it not for the fangs dragging along his neck and nape. Through the rhythmic sway of their bodies, he is keenly aware of Kimura nosing through his strands of silver hair, the sharp points of his fangs barely grazing him, a mixture of apprehension and excitement bubbling his gut as they continue to roam across his skin. He cries out in surprise when teeth sink effortlessly into his shoulder - and then fails to seal the subsequent noises that escape his throat with each thrust. Anjali can no longer dampen his soft whimpers in Kimura’s hold, the au ra savoring the vibration of every whine pushed out of his lover. He licks at the bite in apology, though it is no more than a faint sting in Anjali’s periphery amid every other sensation. Anjali's voice is too damned loud in his own ears, too loud in the room, and occasionally pathetic enough that he feels strange attributing them to himself.

Yet they only serve to spur Kimura on, the angle of his cock now pressing deeper inside than before. His hips increase to a frantic and erratic tempo the closer he approaches his climax. The au ra breathes ragged moans at the shell of his ear, his hand possessively curled around Anjali’s throat, one horn pressed against his jugular to hear his stuttering pulse. Kimura drinks in Anjali’s voice as if it is the most sublime thing he has ever tasted, aching from arousal and exertion and overwhelming affection.

 _“Lovely, beautiful, Anja,”_ Kimura is the ocean itself, the relentless roll of the tide that drowns Anjali in heat and pleasure that reduces him to a quivering mess. Anjali is afforded no opportunity to catch his breath or form coherent thought, lost in the fathomless expanse of Kimura around him, inside him, filling his senses and body without abandon.

Kimura straightens suddenly and hurriedly pulls out, withdrawing to the other side of the bed to allow his lover room to untangle himself. His erection throbs, still gleaming with obscene wetness in the warm glow of candlelight as Kimura strokes himself to completion. While Anjali is grateful that Kimura did not risk spilling inside of him, he is still ravenous, enraptured as he watches Kimura desperately fuck his hand. The hyur sits up and faces Kimura from where he rests on his knees, hips chasing the friction of his grip while bracing for his release.

Anjali lightly places his hand over Kimura’s, whose motions gradually come to a tenuous halt. “Let me?” Kimura’s eyes are unfocused with lust, but he allows Jali to press on the patch of scales at the center of his chest until he is laying on his back. His cock rests heavy on his stomach, smearing precum on the taut muscles of his abdomen. Kimura fists his hands into the sheets, resisting the urge to simply finish himself off then and there.

The hyur wrenches one knee open, leisurely settling between them. Anjali takes Kimura’s plump cock in hand and is endeared by how eagerly the au ra bucks into his hold at the first sign of touch. He rapidly begins to stroke the shaft, feeling it twitch and pulse in his palm, so close to orgasm with how it generously leaks from the tip. Kimura’s legs hitch and spasm sporadically, his powerful thighs flexing around Anjali. Kimura is in a beautiful state of disarray - shivering, arching his back off the bed, whispering curses and praises through wanton noises that fill the space between him and his lover. His tail thrashes from beneath him before finally settling on wrapping around Anjali’s thigh, and the hyur can feel him quivering down the length of it. A blush extends from one ivory horn to the other from beneath disheveled locks, his lips swollen, his gleaming scales and skin catching the light with each swelling breath he takes-

Kimura finally comes over his stomach in thick spurts, moaning as each wave of his release overtakes his senses. The tail wrapped about Anjali’s leg winds tighter around him as Kimura spends himself, holding onto him as if he would shatter from the force of his orgasm. And he thinks he might - to be so gently cared for by Anjali causes the sharp heat from before to transform into blossoming warmth within his ribs, his nerves going pleasantly numb as white flickers though his vision. Anjali strokes him through it, patiently waiting until his cock softens and the au ra quietly whines from the beginnings of overstimulation.

Anjali is unable to look away as Kimura rides out his high, his eyes bright and entranced. And when Kimura lets out the softest noise of satisfaction Anjali has ever heard, it immediately extinguishes the restless embers at the pit of his stomach. In the silence that follows, Anjali contemplates simply curling up next to Kimura as he falls boneless back into the bed, to wait out the heady sensation of arousal flitting around his loins. Just watching Kimura, sated and in dizzy bliss, might be enough to stay his desire for the night. Anjali could watch him forever, truthfully, delighting in how his eyes flutter from fending off sleep and the light dusting of color in his cheeks.

“Anja,” Kimura’s voice is still low and rough when he glances up at him, sending a muted jolt up Anjali’s spine. “Did you finish yet?” 

Anjali stiffens from the question, then vigorously shakes his head, sweat-slicked bangs flicking against his face.

“Come here, love,” Kimura offers an outstretched arm as Anjali climbs into the au ra’s lap, wrapping it around his midsection. Kimura nudges a thigh between Anjali’s legs that he grinds against to relieve the pressure in his groin, not paying mind to the way he is likely leaving a sticky mess in the process. His hand grips Kimura’s shoulder for balance as he tries to derive as much friction as possible from the arrangement. He is so _close,_ and he wishes it was enough, just a bit _more_ to reach the precipice-

Anjali was sure Kimura’s strength had already fled him upon his climax, leaving him unprepared when Kimura cradles his form and lays him on his back on the sheets. Kimura opens Anjali’s legs with a swift precision, a vulnerable position that causes him to shiver when cool air ghosts over his dripping sex. Kimura leaves slow kisses on his calf, then his inner thigh, soft and sloppy from the afterglow humming in his veins. It is a torturous act, a godsdamned _tease_ when he is this close to release. The au ra’s horns are wedged between his quivering thighs, Kimura’s mouth so tantalizingly near his waiting arousal.

He squeaks in alarm when Kimura wordlessly hoists his legs over his shoulders, taken off guard once more when the au ra is licking at the exposed flesh between his legs. His tongue prods at Anjali’s sensitive folds, wet and tender with a combination of pre and slick. Anjali has no choice but to endure as Kimura holds his thighs in place and bends his legs inwards for better access. Kimura’s tongue briefly dips inside to savor him before returning to lavishing the flesh around his entrance, and Anjali clutches the sheets as aching throbs of arousal spark from his core to set the rest of his body alight.

Anjali whines when Kimura drags his tongue along his slit until he reaches his swollen clit, delicately caressing and pressing the flat of his tongue against it. Kimura sucks and strokes his flesh, alternating his skillful ministration in such a way that Anjali cannot predict he will be assailed next. He can only lie there - open, panting, whimpering, feeling as though he is about to burst as Kimura takes his time devouring him. He turns his head to the side and screws his eyes shut, focusing on the soft, supple lips and a hot, slippery tongue that unravel him further with every passing moment. Yet it is the look of unadulterated _devotion_ that is evident in Kimura’s fatigued gaze that threatens to claim him when their eyes briefly meet - that alone may push him over the edge, though he needed little encouragement in the first place.

It is over in an instant - Anjali's legs tense, back arching, breath hitching in his throat as he trips over a moan. His entire frame shudders harshly as he comes, writhing and clenching as Kimura’s tongue presses against him. The pleasure is outright suffocating in the way it consumes his senses, a bolt of raw lightning to course though his entire being before fading away just as quickly.

Kimura gently lowers his body back onto the bed with the utmost reverence when he falls limp. Anjali’s head is still spinning from his climax, struggling to hold onto blurry consciousness. His entire body feels pleasantly warm with each waning shiver, and he’s only pulled out of gasping for air when Kimura leans over, brushes his drenched bangs away, and kisses him.

Anjali immediately turns his head away and sticks his tongue out. “Ew.” He deadpans, too tired to be truly disgusted.

Kimura only laughs, licking the rest of Anjali’s slick off of his lips. “I suppose we’re due for another trip to the baths now.”

“Perhaps so,” Anjali replies airily, his voice thick with fatigue. “Can’t it wait, though?”

“Would you prefer I carry you?” Kimura asks wryly, humming as he strokes Anjali’s cooling skin. His tail flicks behind him in languid amusement.

“I’d much rather you stay here and sleep with me,” Anjali accents his rebuttal with a yawn. “I _did_ say I would not be playing errand boy tomorrow.”

“That you did,” Kimura agrees with a small sound of mirth. He internally rejoices at having Anjali to himself in the morning as well. “Then I suppose it can wait, if you’re so intent on it.”

“I am. Now come here,” Anjali weakly tugs at Kimura’s arm until the other acquiesces and joins him.

Kimura pulls Anjali into his arms as they settle against one another, the two of them taking solace in the warmth of each other’s skin as they drift to sleep. Where war and calamity had parted them, they take comfort in the sound of their calm heartbeats and slow breaths, a reminder that the world cannot steal them away in this moment - and they could not ask for anything more.


End file.
